


The Naming of Cats is a Difficult Matter

by 313Harl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cats, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Just Add Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13765659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/313Harl/pseuds/313Harl
Summary: «Disturb me one more time when I am rehearsing and I will make violin strings out of your tendons.»[...]«What is it?»«For you!»[Euriarty. Crack!Fic because. Kittens are involved.]





	The Naming of Cats is a Difficult Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [The Naming of Cats is a Difficult Matter](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/359151) by Harleen. 



> Ok, so.  
> Hi!  
> First attempt in writing/translating something in English, I hope I didn't make /too many/ mistakes.  
> (The original fic was in italian, I just have a lot of free time these days and maybe I should start crocheting or smth...?)

_«I meant,» said Ipslore bitterly, «what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?»_

_Death thought about it._

_**CATS** , he said eventually. **CATS ARE NICE.**_

\- Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

 

 

“Disturb me one more time when I am rehearsing and I will make violin strings out of your tendons.”

Jim smiles brightly and holds higher the basket, closer and closer to her face. Eurus tilts her head backwards a few inches and remains silent, watching. Waiting.

“Happy birthday, Cupcake!”

Eurus rises an eyebrow.

Ok, his insanity was a given point.

(Let’s be real, it has always been one of his perks.)

It’s. Just. She didn’t think he was _this_ crazy.

“What is it?”

“For you!”

The basket moves and a tiny head pops out, pushing even further the blanket serving as a lid. Eurus frowns, while a small and ridiculously fluffy _something_ emerges and starts looking around. Everything, starting from the top of its pointed ears to the very end of its small – she _knows_ it is small and thin and already vibrant with curiosity and fear – tail, is causing her an overcoming meltdown.

“ _What is it._ ” She asks again, the pitch higher and significantly more hysterical.

“If I recall correctly, its scientific name is _felis catus_. And as for its proper name, I thought you could choose it by yourself? I was thinking of something like Snickerdoodle or Buttercup, but… you know, your gift, your choice.”

“ _I am well aware of what it is, you idiotic moron._ ” Her voice echoes in the room, sharp enough to make the kitten hide inside the basket in the blink of an eye. The only thing visible now are just the top of its ears. And yet, Eurus can’t help but notice, a second later she can sense its blue eyes again on her. The little monster seems to be brave.

( _Or very, very dumb._ )

“Look, Cupcake. I can’t put to sleep an entire prison every week. It is incredibly complicated, not to mention very expensive. Furthermore, the Sherlock situation is coming to a crucial point so… long story short, I don’t think I’ll be able to pay you a visit for a while.”

Eurus raises an eyebrow and suddenly the urge to hit him with her violin bow until one of the two – either his nose or the bow itself – would break is so strong she really doesn’t know how she can resist it.

“I spent twenty years in isolation.”

“And then we met! And I brought joy and love and awesome sex in your life, dearest, and I really don’t have the heart to abandon you all alone again in this dreadful pit. Not now, that you have successfully learnt some basic socialization skills.”

…Or, she could tell Mycroft she had one of her _episodes_. It would be _oh-so-easy_ to explain a broken bow.

“It’s a cat.”

“And you have no idea how soft she is!”

On a second thought, even a broken violin would be no problem to explain _at all_. She could always make it look as if she threw one of her tantrum.

Eurus takes a deep breath to say something – anything, literally anything, would make more sense than this nightmare she is living right now – and in that precise moment, the kitten _meows_.

“Oh gosh.” They both squeal at the same time. The kitten meows _again_ and they can’t help but stare at that soft ball of grey fur while she scratches and moves… and starts climbing Jim Moriarty’s sleeve. Eurus watches in complete silence the kitten, her small – as expected – tail wiggling in the air as she goes up one small and soft step after the other, pining his ridiculously expensive jacket with her claws in order not to fall on her round, exaggeratedly fluffy butt.

Eurus is officially mesmerized and can’t really do anything but notice how her fur is all matted. She must has put some sort of resistance, before being hidden in the basket.

(And she can feel something twisting in her stomach at the thought of a different kind of _basket_ , and an entirely different kind of _passenger_ that has been transported in the very same neglected, godforsaken place. Eurus clenches her fists, angry as usual at the thought of _Sherlock. Damned, Sherlock. You should have solved it. You should have found him, you should have found **me**_.)

Jim does his best to not complain too much, when the kitten finds a way to claw him through the fabric of his clothes, and tries to remain as still as he can. They stare at each other for a second and then, just when the kitten has laboriously reached his bicep, Jim takes her by the scruff of her neck… and hands her to Eurus.

Eurus starts screaming.

“Ok. Ok. Got it. Here, I’ll just leave her here.”

“I’m going to eat it, Jim.”

Jim shrugs, putting the kitten back in the basket. And even though she is indeed a very small, very fluffy ball of fur, Eurus can hear a distinct and a very angry _hiss_. Not to mention the tail: it was thin as a blade of grass, and now it looks like a racoon’s. “You won’t eat very much, you know. Oh, look! She likes it if I scratch her tummy. You’ll get along wonderfully, trust me.”

“I’ll turn it into a carpet.”

“So you’ll think of me every morning!”

“I swear to god, James Moriarty, I’m going to shove that monster up your-”

“I’ll see you as soon as I can, Cupcake. I’m already counting the minutes.”

Jim leaves.

The kitten pops up again from the basket and jumps out of it.

Eurus falls on her butt and crawls backward on the floor without breaking eye contact with that meowing monster.

“ _I don’t want a cat!_ ” She screams at the top of her lungs.

Nobody answers.

***

“Where’s the kitten?”

Eurus’ face is blank, with no emotions whatsoever.

Suddenly, something very _dangerous_ shows in James Moriarty’s gaze.

“Eurus, where’s the kitten?”

Eurus tilts her head to one side, lets go of the violin on the mattress and stars walking towards the entrance of the cell. Every movement, Jim realises, is too smooth, too… _feline_ to be casual. The way she holds her bow in her hand, and how she lets it tilt slowly while she walks, is clearly something Eurus is doing to remind of a cat’s tail.

“ _Eurus._ ”

“My love?” Eurus calls back with a soft voice, looking him with her blue eyes wide open. She looks crazier than ever.

“The kitten.”

“What else would you expect to happen to a kitten in a maximum security prison, light of my life?”

Moriarty gives her a warm smile. “I’ll burn this whole place down, if it is the last thing I do. Your brothers will have to recognise you from your teeth.” Eurus tries to say something, “ _that they’ll have to extract from your goddamn violin._ ”

Eurus smiles and takes up the bow. Her movements are slow and measured, and Jim closes his eyes and lets her caress his face, humming in appreciation. The glass has been removed only recently, and this kind of news is more than welcome. “You’ve been away for too long.” She scolds him, her voice soft.

Jim’s breathing heavily, tilting his head just as Eurus commands him with her bow. “I’ve been away for less than two months, dearest.” It is only a matter of seconds, and Moriarty takes the bow from her hands. Eurus is not yet used enough to the idea that she can now touch – and be touched by – other people, so. Her eyes get wider only for a moment, still, they do. And Jim notices. “Now.” He says to get her attention, clapping the bow in the palm of his hand. “Before I gouge your eyes with a spoon and I send one to each of your brothers. The kitten, Eurus.”

Eurus rolls her eyes with a sigh of utter boredom, and before she can actually say anything, a gentle, delicate _meow_ can be heard in the cell.

***

“So, how did you call her?”

“It’s none of your business.”

 

_**End.** _


End file.
